


Heat of the Moment

by westb0und



Series: Taking Off the Heat [1]
Category: Thundercats (2011)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lemon, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn With Plot, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Post-Series AU, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 09:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westb0und/pseuds/westb0und
Summary: Post-series AU: Kit finds herself in a quandary when she goes into heat for the first time during Lion-O’s coronation banquet after failing to prepare the means for taking care of it herself. Fortunately, she has a friend in the king. Fluff and smut.





	Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This is the unbeta'd, unedited draft; I apologize for the many mistakes you will come across. A major revision should be completed and released before the end of 2018.
> 
> Finally, critique is always appreciated! I can take it, I promise! :D

Thinking back on the event, she supposed the situation _really_ started when she'd climbed out of a quick afternoon bath and tried masturbating on the evening of Lion-O's coronation banquet.  The actual ceremony had been held earlier the same day, and the upcoming celebration was expected to last well into dawn.  It seemed like every Thunderian had been looking forward to this event since reconstruction finished and the harvest began.

Kit stepped out of a small tub and into the cool air of her bedroom, unconcerned with the draft as she wrung out the long fur of her tail. Like her mama and siblings, Kit had a room in the palace now — Lion-O had issued the invitation to join his household shortly after they had returned to the ruins of Thundera following Mumm-Ra's defeat, where Kit and Kat had found their mama and siblings still alive but quite homeless; the gesture had warmed Kit when Lion-O had made it, and it warmed her still whenever she thought of it.

She rubbed herself briskly with a small towel, trying to dry herself as quickly as possible. She dropped the towel, but almost immediately felt a droplet of water begin making its way over the curve of a breast, settling at the tip of a nipple, stiff against the cool air, before falling to the floor. She sighed and picked up the towel again. Like most cats, Kit liked to be clean — _especially_ for this evening's banquet — but the process of bathing was an odious one to any cat with as much fur as she had. It would take forever to comb her tail into shining complacency — not that she didn't want to. This was the biggest formal event of Kit's life, all fifteen years of it. She wanted to look nice for it, especially considering the dress that had been tailor-made for her for just this occasion.

Her dress was an exceedingly pretty thing in royal purple and silver; even Lion-O had expressed appreciation at its delivery, and he had been the one to commission it for her — although Kit was pretty sure Lion-O wouldn't have known a good dress from a tarp. Nevertheless, his commentary had pleased her when she'd heard it; it still pleased her now. This dress would change everything for her, even if just for one evening; it made her look like a real lady, the kind Lion-O was used to seeing — the kind of lady he would look at and see as a _woman_ , not a scruffy kitten. Even if Kit wasn't certain if people would see her or the dress, she was positive _everyone_ would look at her _differently_. She had never wanted to wear anything as much as she wanted to wear this dress now.

She dropped the towel again and crossed her room to open the closet door and look at the dress directly. It was just as beautiful as the last time she'd seen it — it was easily the most precious thing she had ever owned.

Excited anew, Kit began digging through her clothing in search of a pair of panties. She slipped her feet into the first pair she found and pulled them up her legs a little harder than necessary. She felt a spark between her legs when the fabric fit snugly against her sex, and yelped, inadvertently letting the hem snap against her fur.

"Ugh…" Kit twisted a moment, thighs locked together, until the unfamiliar wave of heat began to fade before she gingerly drew the panties back down. They were almost soaked through, and spelled strongly of her sex. Realizing what happened, she made an impatient noise and twisted them back off.

Of course. _Of course_. Of course her menarche would hit on the most important night of her life. She shifted a little guiltily even though she technically hadn't done anything wrong. The thing was, this might _not_ have happened if she'd been touching herself as she'd been warned to in the weeks leading up to it. She'd only tried it once, and it had been interrupted before it went anywhere… but she was unlikely to be interrupted _now_ , a little voice in her head pointed out. And did she really want to spend her evening writhing in the throes of heat?

Kit gave a very put-upon sigh and began heading toward her bed. Her mama had said it was different for everyone, so Kit knew she'd probably have to spend ages of monotonous poking and prodding until she figured out what her body required. "Enjoy the process," Cheetara had said, smiling, when Kit complained. "You'll never forget your first orgasm; make it memorable. It'll be fun."

Fun, she'd said. _Yeah, right_.

 Kit sat gingerly on the edge of her bed and looked down her body doubtfully; the top of her slit was just visible beneath the pale fur of her stomach. It wasn't that she was _entirely_ averse to touching herself — but like most she-cats, Kit harbored little interest in sex when not in heat and just hadn't thought about it much.  The problem with masturbation was that her first experience with it had been a bad one.

It had started out fine: one evening, Kit had locked the door to her room, disrobed entirely, and made herself comfortable on her bed before carefully placing her fingers where she'd been told to place them. She'd rubbed her clitoris until she'd gotten wet, and then, curiously, she'd tried inserting a finger into her vagina — and that's where it went wrong. Cheetara had said something about penetration with objects during her heat lecture, but hadn't covered how to do it with fingers — at the time, Kit had just assumed the cleric was skipping over obvious information. But she now knew through painful experience that few female cats masturbate by penetrating themselves with their fingers because pushing more than a fingertip into the body forces the claw sheath back, exposing a perilous body part to a very sensitive area.

That first masturbation session had come to an end when Kit accidentally clawed herself bad enough that she was forced to tell her mama the next day when the bleeding still hadn't stopped; after ascertaining that the problem was beyond her motherly medical knowledge, Kit's mama had subsequently called for Cheetara. _Then_ , after Kit had been treated, both Cheetara and her mama had carefully explained why penetration by fingers was a bad idea — as if Kit hadn't figured that out for herself. The whole experience from start to finish still remained, hands down, the single most humiliating ordeal of Kit's life. She hadn't practiced tending the heat since. Almost a full season ago.

Kit sighed and flopped back, purposefully throwing herself down hard enough to make her breasts bounce. They were too small to do that without strict encouragement; her mama had assured her they were still growing, but Kit doubted they would get much bigger. Now that she was of an age to care, she couldn't help but observe the women in her family had all sported rather unimpressive sexual accessories.

Dropping an uninterested hand on a breast, Kit idly wondered if men had to go through anything like this. Probably not; _boys_ had an easy-grip handle. Girls, not so much, although Kit wasn't entirely sure she was doing it right to begin with. She had a sudden image of Lion-O naked from the waist up, his mane free from its binding and falling haphazardly over one shoulder while he ran his hands down his chest, tracing his abs. Kit shivered, lips parting; she brought her other hand up and cupped both breasts, the nipples soft, pink nubs barely visible in the midst of her slicked-down fur. She pinched a nipple and plucked at it until it was a deep red and standing stiff out from her fur. Then she rolled it and pressed a finger against it, pushing it in while her image of Lion-O continued to touch his body. His fingers dipped below the hem of his pants and a tiny shiver of _something_ fluttered in Kit's belly.

She froze and the feeling faded.  _What was that?_   She pushed on her nipples again, but the feeling did not return, even after she'd worked on both until they were fully erect and sore to the touch.  She tried touching her breasts a few other ways, too, but failed to reproduce the previous effect.  Interested in the task now in a way she hadn't been before, Kit walked backward on her elbows until her legs weren't hanging off the edge of the bed, then laid back and stretched a full body stretch, her thighs falling open.  Her sex was still damp from the bath and she shivered when the cool air of her room engulfed it.

Kit massaged one breast, careful to avoid the swollen nipple, and ran the other hand down her stomach lightly until she could cup her crotch.  After some searching, she found her opening and pressed a cautious finger in a short ways; both her opening and lips were slick with her fluids.  She made a half-hearted attempt at simulating a penis by pushing it in to the first knuckle and then dragging it out repeatedly, making a wet sound, but she was afraid to push it in any further.  So she pretended that was reason enough to give up on it as a method for easing the heat and sat up on one elbow long enough to search out her clitoris.  She pressed two fingers against it and fell back again, rubbing briskly in the back-and-forth motion she's been told to use.  It was more difficult than anticipated because she was so wet her fingers kept slipping off the intended target and she spent half as much time rubbing the wrong part of her pussy than her clit.  Growing bored, she turned her head while she worked and wondered how long she'd have to try before she could _say_ she'd tried.  It reminded her of something Tygra had once said about Lion-O:  " _he always found excuses to avoid the boring stuff._ "

 _Him and me both_ , Kit thought, sighing inwardly.  Her mental image from before of Lion-O half-naked returned; she wondered if he had ever struggled to make himself orgasm, and what his first orgasm had been like.  Had he even had one?  _Yeah, probably.  He probably has sex all the time_.  He was, after all, the most powerful man on Third Earth.

But Kit pretended he hadn’t, that he was, at this moment, doing what she was doing and trying to chase the elusive orgasm, the experience of which seemed to be the true indication of a Mature Adult.  She’d never seen an erect penis — or Lion-O naked below the belt, for that matter — but she had a healthy imagination.  She watched Lion-O caress his abs, hand trailing down his stomach and fingers dipping into his pants.  Her lips parted; her hand was getting tired, so she started rubbing herself with the other.  _Take them off_ , she ordered silently, watching her imaginary king’s lips turn up at the corner as he obeyed.  It was unexpectedly hot; she smirked at him.  _Who_ _’s giving the orders now, my king?_   Lion-O’s head tipped back, eyes narrowed to blue slits as he wrapped a fist around himself and began pumping, Kit’s name on his lips.

That feeling in her stomach had returned.  Kit partially abandoned her fantasy in favor of looking down her body.  She switched hands for rubbing again and used the other to reach down and tease her entrance, this time intending to visualize her king above her.  Her finger came away _dripping_.

Kit stopped rubbing herself; this wasn't completely new — she understood being wet, she'd been wet before even when not in heat — but she'd never been… well.  _This_ wet.  If she shifted her thighs, she could feel her fluids running in rivulets down the channel between her cheeks.

 _Well_ , she thought.  _I guess I'm doing it right this time_.  She propped herself up on an elbow and explored her opening and labia thoroughly, fingers becoming damp and sticky with her juices.  The scent of her sex, normally unnoticeable unless she was hunting for it, had grown to the point of being undeniable.

And it actually…  it felt really good.  _Amazing_.  She collapsed back on the bed and closed her eyes, Lion-O re-materializing above her; she spread her legs wider for him, watched his smile as she pressed a fingertip carefully inside, and surprised herself by moaning.

A sudden, polite knock on her bedroom door shattered the silence in the room and made Kit jump.  She jerked her hands back and sat up, flushed and immediately fearing it was Lion-O and he _knew_.

"My lady?"  Oncilla's muffled voice came from behind the door.

Kit's shoulders slumped from mixed relief and disappointment.

"Your mother wishes to remind you that you must be present early, before sunset.  Would you like assistance getting prepared?"

Oncilla was a maidservant working for the palace, and _the_ particular maidservant assigned to Kit's mama and, by proxy, her children.  Kit liked Oncilla; she was one of the few Thunderians living in or near the palace with a tail, she didn't take crap from anyone, and she was shorter than even Kit.

"Uh, yeah," Kit answered, tearing across the room and yanking on the first pair of panties she laid eyes on.  She felt another startling spark when the fabric fit snugly against her sex, forcing Kit to pause, squirmy and shivering, while she wiped her fingers off on the towel from her bath.  She resolutely ignored the apex of her legs and began looking around for something to bind her breasts with.  "You can come in, Oncilla."

A spotted cat in her late twenties made a discreet entrance, closing the door swiftly and silently behind her.  "Your chambers are a mess," Oncilla said flatly without preamble.  "Why won't you allow the servants in?"

Kit flashed a hunted smile, arms crossed loosely around her breasts because her nipples still ached.  "I value my privacy," she said sweetly.  She also valued the occasional treasures she and Kat found in other people's pockets and tended to hide in their rooms before returning them later.  _Old habits die hard_.  "Anyway, I need help with the back of my dress — have you seen it yet?  It's amazing!"

"Your mother described it for me," Oncilla offered, frowning at another dress, this one currently draped over the candelabrum on Kit's nightstand.  The maid began tidying, almost impulsively.

"Come and see!"

Oncilla obliged, and expressed an adequate amount of awe and praise for the dress. "This may take a while," she said once Kit was dressed except for the untied ribbons in the back. Oncilla lifted one and examined it thoughtfully for a moment, then began weaving it across Kit's back with the other in an effective, smooth motion.

"That's okay," Kit said, keeping the dress from falling around her ankles by cinching her arms around her front while the maid worked. "It's still early."

"Perhaps it is not _that_ early," Oncilla suggested, but didn't scold further. They both knew Kit should have been ready an hour ago.

Kit waited impatiently for Oncilla to finish her task, tense at first, and then relaxing when Oncilla gave no indication of being aware of Kit's heat. Women couldn't detect other women in heat the same way men could, but Kit was relieved regardless. Although she shared the opinion held by most female cats of generally not caring who knew when she was in heat, for this one evening alone, she desperately hoped nobody would notice. It would make the dancing awkward, if not impossible; people might look at her differently, but not in the way she wanted them to. It was just best that nobody knew. _I can do this_.

In the end, it took Oncilla so long to weave the intricate knots up the back of the dress that Kit was very late — as in, _very_ late.  "You'll not be getting out of this dress on your own again," Oncilla observed when she was finished and starting on Kit's hair.  "If it pleases you, send for me when you tire of the banquet."

"Thank you," Kit said fervently.  "But I _am_ late…"

"I'll be quick," Oncilla promised, brushing through Kit's hair with quick strokes of a comb.  And she _was_ quick, relatively speaking; Kit's ears were unbound, and her hair was pulled back into an expensive-looking style in half the time it took to tie up her dress.  Minutes later, Kit was fully groomed and ready to go.

"Thank you," she repeated at the doorway to her room.

Oncilla gave her a rare smile, making her look ten years younger than she was.  "Anything, love."

Kit left her door open, picked up her dress, and almost flew down the hallway in the direction of the great throne room.  Lion-O had never been a patient man; she hoped he hadn't started without her.

 

* * *

 

Lion-O paced slowly from one end of the foyer to the other, arms crossed loosely over his formal tunic.  Like every king before him, he would be attending his coronation banquet in a long black tunic with red accents, the crown a distracting presence on his head.  He felt oddly like he was going to a funeral with a training helmet on.  Despite his pacing, however, the young king's posture was relaxed, and his expression serene.  The hard part — his coronation — was over.  This was just a party.

"It's not like Kit to be late," Cheetara said from her place at Tygra's side.  Lion-O glanced up at her and then away, trying not to be distracted by her breasts.  She liked to display them, and in formal evening dress, they were very much on sparkling display.

"There's a first time for everything," Kat said, grinning and bouncing on his feet.

Cheetara was genuinely concerned.  "Maybe I should go check on her…"

"Nah, the kitten's probably just grooming her hair and fluffing her tail, just like any other girl would," Panthro commented.  He was leaning against the wall, robotic arms crossed.  Panthro had opted for formal military wear rather than white tie dress code; Lion-O was intensely jealous.  "She's fine."

"It took Kit almost three hours to brush her tail last night to get ready for the coronation." Kat contributed unhelpfully.

"Three _hours?_ " every other cat echoed.

A short, staccato knock put an end to the incredulous conversation.  A guardsman, also in Thundera's finest, took a step into the room.  "My Lords, My Lady," he said, bowing shortly in Lion-O's and Tygra's direction, "presenting Miss Wilykit."  He stepped aside, revealing a short, white cat behind him.

Lion-O, to his eternal embarrassment, did not recognize the young woman standing in the doorway until she had stepped through the room and put herself on display in the candlelight — and then he did a double-take.  Her ears were free from their usual binding and neatly groomed so that they stood above her hair, which was twisted up in an elegant knot on the back of her head and fell past her shoulders from there.  She wasn't wearing make-up, but she didn't need it.  What really caught Lion-O's attention, however, was her dress — or rather, the slim body _under_ the dress.

He'd seen that dress before, of course; he'd commissioned it for Kit especially, in colors and a style his father's tailor had assured him would please Kit the most.  This she-cat made it look like something else entirely; she was a vision in pale fur, bare from neck to shoulder and royal purple sweeping to the floor.  Her décolletage traced the curve of her arms just below the shoulder and dipped low (Lion-O swallowed) and lower to form an elegant pattern in silver beneath the faint impression of breasts.  It hit him, hard, when he realized that the woman fidgeting a little in front of him was definitely Kit.  He felt his neck and ears heat up.  Where had that boisterous little girl gone?  When had the scruffy tomboy who had followed him to Hell and back grown up?  And how had he missed it?  He just couldn't believe that girl and this woman were the same cat.  He looked her up and down, and then looked her up and down again, lips parted and brain refusing to engage.

"Oh!" Cheetara said, sweeping forward and taking Kit's hands in a single graceful movement.  "Kit, you look lovely!"

"Lookin' good," Panthro agreed.  "Quite the little lady now, aren't you?"

Kit laughed a little, only the faintest hint of a tremor hinting at some form of nerves.  "Well, thank you!  Have you seen the back?  It took Oncilla _ages_ to do it up… a-actually," she added hastily, "that's why I was late.  The dress, I mean." Kit tittered a little nervously, eyes flickering up briefly to meet Lion-O's and then away again.  She seemed to flush a little while she made a slow, full turn to show off the intricate pattern of lace and ribbons criss-crossing up the back of her dress, and Lion-O was treated to even more of her fur than he felt he should be entitled to enjoy.  The dress came together just below her tail, so Lion-O had the full measure of the faint dimples marked by the backs of her hips, and the way the fur on her back melted into the lighter fur of her tail, long and silky; it looked impossibly soft.  He wanted to touch it.

" _Lion-O!_ "

"What?"  Lion-O dropped back to Third Earth, looking away from Kit to Tygra.  The tiger looked torn between being faintly annoyed and mildly amused.  "I _said_ ," he repeated slowly in that way that he _knew_ aggravated his brother most, "are we going to open the ball or stand in here all night?"

Lion-O snapped his jaw shut, rallying.  "The ball.  Uh, yes.  Let's go, people."  He squared his shoulders and crossed the room in long strides to another door at the opposite end of the one Kit had entered through.  The other cats fell in behind him, Tygra and Cheetara as a pair, then Panthro, then Kit and Kat linking arms and grinning at each other.

Lion-O puffed out a short sigh and glanced over his shoulder to make sure his companions were ready.  "Here we go," he said simply, and pushed the door open.  It led directly into the great throne room, currently dazzling with decorations and the nobility in their finest.  Lion-O stepped into the room, leading his companions in and starting the party amidst thunderous applause.

 

* * *

 

The night got underway without a hitch; Lion-O gave a short speech to open it, reminding the hundreds of occupants in the throne room of the sacrifices they'd all made in losing Thundera seven years ago, and all of the blood and sweat they'd put into rebuilding again.  Then he opened his arms and invited everyone to enjoy themselves, and the party began.

This was the first opportunity the Thunderians had been given to dress in finery and have fun since the night Thundera fell, and everyone seemed eager to enjoy themselves to the fullest.  The great throne room had been converted into a ballroom for the occasion, and outside the palace, the courtyard and marketplaces had all been decorated likewise, and everywhere was filled with Thunderians dressed in their finest and having a good time.  The image was made more interesting by the fact that not all Thunderians were cats; not anymore.  Dogs, mostly, made up the non-feline majority, but there was a smattering of elephants, berbils, and even a handful of lizards.  And no animosity to be found anywhere — looking around, Kit felt it deep in her chest; everything Lion-O had worked for, everything he'd sacrificed for… it had finally come to fruition, and she was witnessing it, here, in this moment.  Peace the likes of which Third Earth had never known.

And the party of a century.

"You'll save a dance for me, right?  Now that I'm all ladylike and all," Kit linked her fingers around Lion-O's arm as everybody was sitting down to the banquet some time later.

Lion-O looked down at her, a lopsided grin suggesting he found her entreaty endearing in some way.  "Sure.  Of course."

"Promise?"

"I promise.  In fact," Lion-O leaned forward and bent slightly until his stance was almost conspiratorial.  "I'll save the first dance for you."

Kit felt her whole world light up.  "Really?"  The first dance with the king was a Really Big Deal.  Only real ladies were given this honor; real _women_.

"Really.  Meet me at the dance floor when it's time," he said, and then it was time to eat.  He flashed her a small smile, just one corner of his mouth turned up slightly, and then his attention was elsewhere.

Up until that point, Kit had been managing her heat rather well, to her mind.  She had, admittedly, been feeling increasingly off ever since her bedroom explorations — but she put that down to all of the men groomed at their finest meandering around her; their scents were glorious and distracting.  But then again, she told herself firmly, so were the lights and the colors and the music — it was all beautifully, wonderfully distracting.

But Lion-O…  Lion-O was another matter entirely.  Back before they'd opened the ball, she'd been unable to look him in the eye after the things she'd imagined about him while touching herself, and every instance of eye contact since had been difficult, making her flush and prompting a wave of guilt.  Just _thinking_ about it made her blush, even now; why had she _done_ that?  On tonight, of all night, why had she decided to fantasize about _Lion-O_ when she had always been intent on spending the most important night of her life _with him?_   Her heat had made every moment around Lion-O into an exquisite torture.  But even then, Kit had thought she could handle it.

And she had, up until he flashed her that tiny smile.

…And she _felt_ her juices soaking through her panties and into the fur on the insides of her thighs.  She squeezed her legs together until her knees hurt, trying and failing to focus on the food in front of her.  It was something fancy and expensive, the sort of cuisine she'd never had before — like Kat, she'd been excited to get to taste it.  But right now, she just wanted to taste something else, and it had nothing to do with food and everything to do with Lion-O.  She could see him out of the corner of her eye; she watched him, rapt, as his lips wrapped around a fork while it slowly withdrew from his mouth.  She forced herself to look away, squirming and trying to shift her dress to avoid creating a wet spot.  She struggled to maintain conversation with the cat next to her — Bobcat, a close friend — and became completely unable to string two words together when she caught sight of Lion-O's tongue.  At that point, Kit became abruptly aware of the fact that maybe, just maybe, she might not be able to handle this.  This was around the point when Bobcat seemed to catch on and gave up on talking to her.

 _No!_   She thought viciously, sitting up and squaring her shoulders.  _My body will NOT ruin my night!_   She wouldn't _let_ it.  She was resolved against anything and everything.  She could _do_ this.  Kit turned resolutely back to Bobcat and said, calmly, "where was I?"

It seemed to work.  However, Kit's resolve was tested shortly thereafter — because after the eating came the dancing.

Lion-O stood, and Kit watched him walk around the table, greeting people or chatting as he began sauntering toward the center of the room with the easy grace all cats possessed, but, Kit thought, lions possessed it especially. Kit could see Tygra and Cheetara nearby, and a veritable horde of ladies vying for Lion-O's attention; the royal family would be required to open the dance floor, and Tygra was clearly taken. Kit stood abruptly; she had a claim to Lion-O's first dance, and she was going to _claim_ it, dammit. If any of those other women laid some much as a claw tip on Lion-O, there would be a cat fight — Kit was sure of it, and rather determined about it. She began making her way toward Lion-O, trying to focus on her breathing. Her panties were soaked through; she tried not to feel ashamed. She was going to enjoy herself. She would not let her body ruin this night for her. She was going to _enjoy_ herself.

Kit was repeating this new mantra when Lion-O's ceremonial sword brushed against somebody's chair as he passed and drew Kit's eye directly to his hindquarters; her mantra disappeared. She felt her stomach twist, and not in the bad way — in the worst possible way. He turned so that he was at a slight angle to her, and it pulled his tunic tight against his chest, teasing the muscles beneath. Even Kit's _nipples_ ached, and she could only feel faintly relieved that the material of her dress was thick enough to hide them. She struggled after her quarry, forcing herself to breathe deep and slow.

It was a very flushed and slightly harassed-looking Kit who finally appeared at Lion-O's side scant seconds later. To Kit, every one of those seconds had felt like an hour.

Lion-O glanced down at her. His mane, long and straight and bound tightly near the top of his head, fell across his shoulder as he did so. "Ready?" said, grinning that boyish grin that made Kit's knees go weak. He offered his hand as if she were a real lady, and she gave it to him automatically; then he went a step further and pressed his lips to her knuckles in a short bow, and her heart stopped. "Let's do this," he murmured, still smiling, and began leading her through the remainder of the crowed between them and the dance floor.

Looking up at her king, Kit suddenly did not want him to know she was in heat. She just knew, then and there, in that abrupt moment, beyond any doubt, that if Lion-O realized she was in heat, the humiliation would put an end to the dance, her night, and their relationship. It would ruin everything. _You're being melodramatic. You're just in heat, that's not going to happen_ , she told herself, but it didn't help; anxiety clawed at her stomach as Lion-O took her hand and brought her to a large area in the center of the great throne room which was free from any other animal apart from the royals and their ladies. With the exception of Tygra and Cheetara, who were already holding each other close, Kit felt the eyes of hundreds of cats on her and Lion-O, felt the silent curiosity and snap judgments being made about the young lady the king had chosen for this all-important first dance. Lion-O smiled that small smile down at her, and the music began, and he pulled her into a sweeping dance, and as Kit was swept along in his powerful arms, she felt a bead of her fluids begin a slow, torturous journey down the inside of her thigh.

There was no way, she thought mutely as Lion-O adjusted his grip on her waist and firmly pulled her closer. He would find out. He would _know_. And it was too late to stop it now, too late to escape, to beg his forgiveness and cancel their dance. All sexually mature male cats could scent a female in heat if they got close enough; and Lion-O was definitely, absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, getting close enough. Kit couldn't escape. Her heart thundered in her ears, and then she realized somebody was saying her name.

"Kit?"

Kit nearly stumbled and struggled not to lean on her partner too heavily when that was exactly what she needed to do to avoid falling or stepping on his feet. She inadvertently caught Cheetara's eye as she and Tygra passed, and Cheetara flashed Kit a soft, encouraging smile before Tygra swept her out of Kit's sight again; surprisingly, Cheetara's look bolstered Kit's resolve — it was like a short, bracing wind at her back. Kit swallowed and lifted her gaze from Lion-O's chest to his eyes. They were so blue she could drown in them. He was smiling at her — _for_ her — how could she _not_ think about mating with this perfect man?  She shook her head to clear it and missed the next step; she would have fallen if Lion-O hadn't been leading, and he swept her back into rhythm flawlessly, without missing a beat.

Her lips parted reflexively to take in his scent. She swallowed, remembered he was trying to talk to her, and squeaked, "s-sorry?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh— uh— I'm, I'm fine." She couldn't seem to moderate her voice; it came out in a squeaky whisper. The heat thrumming beneath her skin, centered at her sex and spreading through her body, had reached a feverish pitch. _Please don't notice, please don't notice, please don't notice_ _…_

"You look a little flushed," Lion-O explained, expression concerned but not suspicious, not accusing or anything negative. Just mildly concerned, and perhaps a little puzzled.

 _I am in control. Lion-O is not going to notice. This night is going to be perfect_. Kit swallowed again. "I'm fine," she repeated, "really."

Lion-O's expression held for a beat, then he smirked a little, tipping his head aside just slightly. "You're definitely flushed," he said lightly. "Not that I'm going to bring the law down around your ears, but how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Kit laughed, surprising herself. _I'm drunk on_ you _, maybe._ "I might've tried just a little bit," she said, looking up at him through her lashes coyly. "It was gross. You won't tell on me, will you?"

"Tell who? The king?"

They grinned at each other. The tension hovering between them had dissipated with their laughter, but it began returning as Kit's anxiety over her heat increased again. _Has he noticed yet?_ She bit her lip and looked away.

Other dancers had joined the royal couples by now; Kit couldn't see Cheetara anywhere in the sea of sweeping dresses and tails.

Lion-O is close enough that Kit can detect the spicy soap he used when he last bathed.  She wanted to taste it on his fur; she licked her lips, told herself to look away, but couldn't rip her gaze from his mouth.  She prayed he wouldn't notice her scent the way she was noticing his.  _I'm in control,_ she reminded herself, a little desperately.  His scent was driving her crazy.  _I can do this_.

Lion-O turned them again, and Kit caught a glimpse of the sharp curve of a hip through his clothing.  She stared, tried to force herself to look away, failed, and and pulled her hand out of his.  He looked down at her curiously, bringing them to a faltering stop, but was more interested in figuring out what she was doing rather than asking.  Kit's hand closed around his hip, then traveled up to his waist.  Her breathing stuttered.

"Kit…?"

Lion-O's voice did what self control had not, and Kit froze, then snatched both of her hands back.  "I'm sorry," she gasped, avoiding his eyes, looking anywhere but him.  She began backing away.  "Sorry.  Really.  I-I just… I'm sorry—"

"Kit, what's wrong?" Lion-O, damn him, began pursuing her as she backed away.  "Hold on— Kit—!" he reached out suddenly, but too late; Kit collided backward into the nearest pair of dancers, and all three of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs and skirts.  All the other dancers in the immediate vicinity stopped and backed away a few steps to stare.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Kit repeated, red-faced as she struggled to her feet in an extremely unladylike fashion, and then tried to help the other two cats — correction, a dog and a cat; Kit blinked — but they were already pulling each other to their feet.

"What was that all about?" asked the dog, a slim, striking lady that probably stood head and shoulders over even Panthro. 

The canine lady's partner — a small, portly cat whose clothing suggested he was of the ranking nobility — scowled at Kit.  "Now see here — that was terribly reckless of you, Missie—"

"Sorry about that, Baron, My Lady," Lion-O said, intervening smoothly by stepping between Kit and the couple.  "That was my bad; I missed a step.  Are you two alright?"  He was all charm, as if he'd been taking lessons from Tygra or something.  Kit stared, then got distracted when he put his arm around her shoulders.

The couple promptly fell all over themselves to fawn over their king; Kit heard their exchange with Lion-O in only the vaguest way, because it was hard to focus on anything else with Lion-O's arm around her.  She was pressed against his side, and his scent filled her world.  She was almost dizzy with it; she placed both hands on his stomach and felt his hard abs through his tunic.  Her lips parted.  She barely noticed him guiding her off the dance floor.

_She couldn't handle this._

"Are you alright?"

It took Kit a moment to realize Lion-O's voice in her ear was directed at her.  She looked up at him reflexively, then away, totally embarrassed.  She struggled to get back in control, but Lion-O was like kindling to the fire in her body.  Looking around, she realized Lion-O had directed them behind the banquet tables against a wall, as private a place as can be found in a great hall filled with hundreds of people.  "I'm fine," Kit whispered, looking anywhere but Lion-O.

"No, you aren't.  Kit, what's wrong?"

His voice is low and concerned, and it made Kit want to touch him again, or maybe yank on her ears and scream.  In an abrupt moment of clarity, Kit understood she wasn't in control of her heat.  Hadn't been.  Couldn't be, not until she'd tended to it.  Her shoulders dropped in resignation.

"It's nothing," she muttered, looking for the exit.

Lion-O angled his face to the side slightly, assessing her from a new viewpoint.  "Do you want me to find Cheetara or your mother for you?"

And with those words, Kit knew he knew.  _He knows_.  Humiliation seized her, and she knew now what people meant when they say things like, "I wish a hole would open up beneath me and swallow me whole."  She wished for the exact same thing.  "N-no," she said, voice cracking.  She began backing away, this time watching where she was going.  "I-I just, uh, need a break.  I'll be back.  Later.  Sorry.  Bye."  She tangled her fingers behind her back to keep from touching him again, then turned away fully.

"Kit—" he began, but she was already hurrying away, trying not to jostle people in the crowd as she fled.  She was endlessly frustrated with her body for betraying her like this — and the thought brought with it another bead of her fluids running down the inside of a thigh.  She hated being in heat.  This evening should have been perfect, _would_ have been perfect if not for this _damn heat_.

Kit began to calm down once she was out of the throne room and press of (male) bodies surrounding her on all sides.  The hallway was empty except for the two guardsmen standing at the doors.  She sighed and began walking to her room.  There's was nothing she could do; she'd have to find some way to tend the heat without humiliating herself further.  Then maybe she could return and enjoy the rest of her evening — assuming she hadn't ruined it completely.  How would she ever be able to face Lion-O again?  Her face burned, and she watched the hem of her gown as she walked.  Her room was at the other end of the palace, of course; she'd be lucky if she got there without her juices leaving disgusting footprints down the hallway.

But then, as if the gods were finally taking pity on her, Kit noticed a slim, unobtrusive door along the hallway, cracked open.  She paused long enough to twitch it open further and poke her head inside.  It was a fainting room, completely empty and dimly lit by the tall windows lining the far wall.  She was on the upper floor, or she'd be able to see the festivities outside; she could certainly hear them.  Kit entered the room, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it.

 _I can still fix this_ , she thought, never one to mope for long.  It wasn't in Kit's nature to give up.  _One step at a time.  Tend the heat, then deal with fixing things with Lion-O_.  She looked down the front of her dress and sighed.  Then she gathered up the dress, maneuvering the fabric so that she could hold it away with one arm.

Her panties were soaked through from the bottom.  _Ugh_.  She couldn't help a soft moan while she struggled to push her underwear down one-handed.  She failed repeatedly before she made a frustrated noise and decided to just leave them on.  She slipped shaking fingers beneath the hem to make an attempt at rubbing herself and gently penetrating herself at the same time.  That didn't work either, to her everlasting frustration.  She squeezed her eyes shut, hand moving frantically behind the restriction of her underwear.  Then she took a breath and opened her eyes.  _C'mon, Kit, you can do this_.

There was a fainting couch on the other side of the room, not quite backed up against the windows.  Moonlight spilled across the spiral of its arm and blended with torchlights from the party outside, bathing the entire couch in calm, slow-moving shadows.  It was a short walk across the room, and then Kit began trying to get her dress off.  Unfortunately, Oncilla had woven her knots precisely as Kit had wished her to, and they held fast; the dress stayed firmly in place no matter what Kit did to free herself from it.  She groaned and struggled with it, swearing, until she heard an ominous tearing sound somewhere and finally found a measure of desperate relief.  She was able to push the top down enough to free her breasts, and the cool air on her sensitized nipples was such a relief that Kit barely spared a thought for the dress.  She hiked the rest of the dress up enough to free her legs and then dropped onto the fainting couch with a faint moan.  She was in an awkward position, half slumped against the arm of the couch, but the heat took up all of her attention and she couldn't even bring herself to shift into a comfortable position before her hands were between her legs.  It was this or spend the rest of the night with her head too full of Lion-O's body to enjoy herself.  _I got this_.

Kit had given up on getting her panties off, but they restricted her movements when she tried to apply what she knew about inducing orgasm.  She struggled to remember all the different things her mama and Cheetara had told her, but she hadn't been interested enough to retain all of the information.  Deeply frustrated, she regretted not practicing as she should have; if she had only coached herself _once_ on finding what her body needed, she wouldn't be in this humiliating mess now.  Desperate, she pushed two fingers insistently against her opening until her skin was stretched taut around them.  Kit struggled to focus on keeping the claws on her trembling fingers sheathed while she began a limited in-and-out motion, her fingertips sliding easily in her fluids.  She could feel how wet she was inside and out, the way her essence leaked onto her underwear and coated the fur of her inner thighs.  Both of her hands were wet with it.  Before, the thought of her wetness vaguely grossed her out; but now it was undeniably hot.  Kit bit her lip and fucked herself carefully for a minute; it didn't help, so she withdrew her fingertips and began rubbing her clit — but that only made the heat intensify to the point where Kit froze, whimpering and shuddering until the feeling ebbed a little.  _Is it supposed to feel like this?_   They'd said her menarche would be "overwhelming," but Kit hadn't been able to truly appreciate what that meant until now.  She rested her head against the couch, groaning, and wondered if it would ever stop.  And then both hands were beneath her panties and she was trying again, because she didn't know what else to do.

 

* * *

 

Lion-O's eyes followed Kit's back as she exited the throne room; he frowned.  She was clearly distressed, and almost looked… feverish.  Sick.  He sighed.  _Trust Kit not to ask for help_.  Both Kit and Kat were fiercely independent and rarely went to anyone but each other for support — the byproduct of a life spent in the slums.

Lion-O scanned the room for his brother's vibrant stripes, located him, and then began scanning the people around him.  When Lion-O didn't see who he was looking for, he made his way over to Tygra and the cat he was chatting with.

"Hey," Lion-O said lightly during a lull in Tygra's conversation.  "I'm sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow you for a moment?"  He flashed an apologetic smile at Tygra's conversation partner.

Tygra dutifully made his excuses and then allowed himself to be drawn a short ways away.  "What is it?"  He almost sounded bored — a sure sign that he was irritated and resigned to not showing it.

"I'll be quick," Lion-O said, attempting to placate.  "Can you tell me where Cheetara is?"

Tygra became a little more alert, as he always did when Cheetara's name came up.  "No.  Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing serious, just…  I think Kit is sick.  She just left looking pretty miserable."

"Kit?"  Tygra frowned, but his countenance was thoughtful.  "Maybe there's something going around; Cheetara left a little while ago, she felt terrible.  Apparently, she was sick yesterday, too."

Ah.  Lion-O sighed inwardly; Tygra had been getting rather touchy lately whenever something came between him and Cheetara.  "Alright.  Sorry for interrupting."

Tygra waved him off and returned to his previous conversation partner.

Lion-O hovered for a moment, undecided, then did an about-face and began striding toward the doors.  It took a while to get there.  He had to weave his way through dancing couples and chattering groups of people, and every one of them felt the need to stop and bow and ask him questions.  Once out in the hallway, Lion-O stopped and looked around.  Where would Kit have gone — to the court physician?  _Not likely_.  Her room was likelier, but then again, she might have gone out to the gardens to get some air.  Cursing inwardly, he turned toward the guards standing at the doors to the throne room.  "Did either of you see which way Kit went?"

Both guards knew Kit; she and her siblings were well-liked among the palace staff, including the royal guard.

"Yes, Sire, she entered the East fainting room some minutes ago and has yet to exit," one guard supplied promptly.

"Thank you."  Lion-O turned his face in the direction of the room in question and began walking.  The East fainting room wasn't far, and he knocked only once before opening the door.  "Kit, are y—?"

"No, wait—" she cried at the same time.

Lion-O froze with his hand on the door and halfway through it, locking eyes with her.  She was slumped on the fainting couch with her shapely legs spread, her dress, tail, and ears in complete disarray; her dress was draped over her thighs and had been pushed down around her ribs.  She hurriedly crossed her arms across her chest as he entered, but he still caught a glimpse of swollen nipples standing out from her fur.  They stared at each other for a moment, Kit flushed and Lion-O starting to do the same; then Lion-O turned and quickly closed the door while Kit bit her lip, sat up, and tried to rearrange her dress into something socially acceptable.

She had to keep her arms across the front to keep her breasts from being exposed.  Lion-O was here, and that was it.  _It's over_.  Life couldn't possibly get any worse than this, and yet she felt oddly relieved; the ordeal had passed, and though it hadn't gone in her favor, at least it was over now.

Lion-O remained at the door with his back to her.  "Are you alright?  Sick?" he asked.

Kit sighed.  "No," she said, and her voice came out a little shakier than she would have liked.  "I'm in heat."

"Wha— oh."  Lion-O paused, then turned slowly, as if afraid to see her disheveled state again.  He seemed to think for a moment, then made a decision and began crossing the room.

Kit avoided looking at him altogether, pressing her knees tightly together and hunching forward until her elbows, still crossed over her chest, touched her knees.  Her tail thumped against the couch erratically, giving away her mood, but she didn't have the energy to hold it still.  She startled when Lion-O appeared in front of her, pulling off his ceremonial cloak and draping it around her shoulders.  It covered the essentials enough for Kit to be able to release her dress, gripping the soft material.  She looked up at him cautiously, slowly sitting up.

Now that he was close enough, Lion-O could breathe in her scent and confirm her words.  He felt a little foolish; when they had been dancing, he'd known _somebody_ nearby was in heat, but hadn't been able to pinpoint who.  It had been a mere annoyance then; now, it was an alarming problem, because, like every male cat, Lion-O's body responded to Kit's scent by growing hard.  "Well," he said lightly, trying for humor, "that explains some things."

Kit's lips twisted; she didn't laugh, but she didn't appear annoyed, either.  Lion-O sat down next to her on the other end of the couch, trying not to bother her with his scent more than he knew he must have already done.  "I'm going to go get Cheetara, okay?" he said gently.  Cheetara wouldn't mind, even if she was sick.  "Will you be alright on your own for just a little while longer?"

Kit's head snapped up.  "N-no!  Don't _tell_ her!"  She accidentally caught his eye and quickly looked away again.  "I mean… I- I just…" Kit trailed off for a moment.  "Will you stay here for a little while?  I don't want to be alone."

An awkward silence drifted between them; Lion-O decided to fill it with a slight change of topic.  "That was pretty quick thinking, to get yourself out of the ballroom and away from trouble like that," he said.  "I don't think anybody suspected the truth.  I certainly didn't."

"You didn't know?"  Kit peeked at him from the corner of her eye.  "When we were dancing?"

"Uh, yes, well," Lion-O felt his neck and ears heating up.  "I knew _someone_ nearby was, but I didn't know it was _you_ …"

"Really?"

The revelation had tempted a small smile from Kit, so Lion-O decided he didn't mind her knowing.  "Really," he said.

"We were _dancing_.  I was _right_ _in front_ of you," Kit pointed out, that little grin widening.

Lion-O ran a hand through his hair, forgetting he was wearing the crown and knocking it askew.  He took it off and smiled ruefully at it, acutely embarrassed.  "I know.  Don't ask me how I missed it."

Kit finally laughed.  It was small, short, and a little watery, but it was laughter.  Lion-O shot her a sideways grin, the tense atmosphere finally dissipating between them.  They were both embarrassed, and they both knew it.  Everything seemed ridiculous for a moment, and Lion-O had to laugh at the situation for a moment.

"This is ridiculous," Kit said.

"It could be worse," Lion-O offered.

"I don't think so," Kit said simply, "nice thought, but this has officially been the worst night of my life."

Lion-O hesitated a moment, then moved closer so that he could put a comforting arm around her.  "Why don't you want Cheetara to know?" he asked, trying to shift her attention to something less dismal.  "Or do you just not want _anyone_ to know?"  Lion-O could relate to that.  He wouldn't have wanted anybody to know every time he'd gotten an erection at fifteen, either.

"I don't care if anyone knows," Kit said, quoting the typical female stance toward being in heat.  "I just… Cheetara warned me about this, and I didn't listen."

"Ah."  She was trying to avoid a scolding, then.  Lion-O could relate to that, too.  "Is there anything I can do for you?"  He shifted a little uncomfortably, rock hard in his pants and hoping she wouldn't notice.  He resisted the urge to part his lips and take in as much of her scent as he could.

Kit shook her head.  "Thanks, but no.  Just… stay here for a little bit, okay?"

"I can do that," Lion-O smiled.  When Kit's shoulders only slumped further, he nudged her and asked, "so apart from your heat, how is this the worst night of your life?"

Kit looked up at him questioningly.

"It always looks worse from the inside," he explained.  "Maybe I can help."

Kit heaved a sigh, cutting her eyes away.  "It's _all_ the heat," she explained, deciding she'd already lost everything, so it couldn't hurt to go the extra mile and explain herself.  At least then he'd understand, would know the truth.  "I just… I refuse to be a slave to my instincts, you know?  Or I thought I could…"  She shrugged a little.  "This was supposed to be the best night ever.  Your coronation was the most important event of my life.  I've been looking forward to it for _ages_ …" she trailed off, then shot him a tiny smirk.  "I guess it might've all been worth it just to see your face when you saw me in my dress."  Her smile faded and she looked down.  "I ruined it.  I ruined everything."

"The dress can be mended," Lion-O said, trying not to think about Kit's breasts and failing.  He scooted back a little, trying to arrange himself so his erection wouldn't show.  "You haven't ruined anything.  It's not like you can control it, right?"  He paused, then said, impulsively, "you really are beautiful, you know."

Kit looked up at him, startled.  His eyes were so blue they threatened to drown her.  She shuddered, and then moved forward abruptly enough to leave his cloak behind.  She closed the distance between them in an ungainly scramble and stopped with her knees pressed against his thighs.  Her dress had slipped down around her ribs again, and her bared breasts caught his eye as she lifted both hands, not quite touching him.  Her expression sent a shiver down his spine, eyes wide and lips parted as if she wanted to breathe nothing but his scent.  "C-can I—"

"Uh… w-we should talk about this," Lion-O said weakly, briefly frozen in place.  He was acutely aware of his cock straining against his pants and that his current position made it obvious, but she had him trapped with her scent, her gaze, her body.  He lifted his arms almost and cursed himself for his weakness, accepting her embrace and burying his hands in the fabric bunched around her waist.  She gripped his shoulders and slid one thigh across his lap; he helped her settle so that her core was against his cock.  She was impossibly hot through their clothing, and her nipples brushed against his chest when she adjusted her position; he struggled to bite back a moan.  "Kit…"

She looked up at him through her lashes, hands sliding from his shoulders to rest against his chest.  She hunched forward a little and blushed as if she wanted to hide herself, but she held his gaze unwaveringly.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I just, I was… but it's _you_ , and I… I need…" she looked away, lips trembling, and finally gave in to the impulse to cover her breasts.

Lion-O's sympathy eclipsed his desire, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him fully and burying one hand in her hair.  The movement pulled her up on her knees a little, and the lack of heat across his thighs did wonders at allowing him to connect his thoughts.  He stroked her ears and spoke into her hair.  "I know— I mean, I don't _know_ how hard it is for you, obviously, but I get it.  But I really need us to stop here.  I don't want to do anything we might regret later, and I can't think clearly right now."  He frowned, struggling to find a way out of their conundrum.  He wanted — they _both_ wanted him to fuck her, and if he were honest with himself, taking Kit sounded like a damn wonderful idea right now.  But at the same time, there was a voice in the back of his head repeating what he'd just told Kit: _I'm not thinking clearly, I can't think clearly this close to a woman in heat, not when I'm already so close to her to begin with_.  The thought of losing Kit's friendship to a hasty decision made in the throes of her first heat was an unexpectedly painful one that left his chest tight and helped to sober him further.

Kit gave a small, shaky laugh, and spoke into his tunic.  "I think you're thinking more clearly than I am right now."  She bit her lip and pressed herself more firmly against his body, her arms crushed between them, her voice dropping to a broken whisper.  "Just— please don't let me go, okay?  Not right now.  I can't— I can't handle this—"

"Kit—"

"I need you, Lion-O," she said, soft.  "I just… right now, I really need you… that's all."

Lion-O twitched and felt his self-control melting away; he struggled to rally and laughed a little, nervously.  "Okay," he said, "alright.  Here's what I— um…"

Kit buried her nose in his fur where neck met jaw, just where his scent was strongest, and inhaled deeply.

Lion-O twitched, then gripped her shoulders and gently pushed her back.  She resisted for a moment, then slowly let him push her back until she was sitting on his legs, just shy of his cock.  "Listen," he said softly, dipping his chin so he could trade gazes with her eye-to-eye.  "Whatever happens… I just want you to know that whatever happens between us, I'm doing it for you.  Because I care about you.  Okay?"  He didn't know if he was going to leave her or fuck her, and neither choice left him feeling comfortable, but he knew one or the other was about to happen.

Kit seemed to read his mind; her expression became alarmed, and she tightened her grip on his tunic.  "No, wait— don't leave me!"

"I'm not— I don't know—"

"Lion-O, _please_.  I know I don't know anything, but I don't want you to— just… don't go… okay?"  She leaned forward again, claws needle-sharp through his tunic, and she nosed urgently at his neck before chancing a shaky, desperate lick against his jaw.

And just like that, Lion-O's decision was made for him.  He shuddered and turned his head, his nose brushing against Kit's.  Moving slowly to give her a chance to pull back, he brought their faces closer together until their lips were brushing and he could feel her breath coming in quick gasps.  She gasped and pushed her body urgently against him, and he murmured a short moan when her bare breasts pressed against him.  He wrapped his arms around her once more and pressed their lips together, finally taking the kiss he'd wanted from the start.

His embrace was firm but the kiss was gentle, and Kit moaned as she applied herself enthusiastically, if clumsily.  She had to pull away a short distance to catch her breath after only moments, but her lips were back against his less than a heartbeat later, urgent and soft.  He let her pepper little open-mouthed brushes of her mouth against his like this until she had a better handle on her breathing, then he turned his head a little, eyes drifting shut while he found just the right angle for claiming her mouth.  Kit moved her lips, mouthing at first his bottom lip and then upper in chaste little kisses that occasionally came close to bites, and he matched her movements until they settled into a comfortable push-and-pull with their mouths.  When Kit dragged the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip, he took it as permission to taste her mouth fully, and he deepened the kiss accordingly.  Kit moaned and started purring, a deep sound coming from the base of her throat, as he dipped his tongue into her mouth.  It was a little clumsy and wet at first, but still perfect, so perfect, and Lion-O moaned when Kit started to move her tongue against his.

Kit brought her body forward until her thighs were spread across Lion-O's lap again, and then she began rocking her hips, instinctive and eager and clumsy.  She started kneading his chest with her claws at the same time, purring harder.  When she uttered a frustrated, miserable groan, Lion-O dropped his hands to her dress and struggled with what seemed like endless waves of fabric to gain access to her fur below.  He had to break the kiss so he could push her dress up further on her waist; then he put her lips back to work as he gripped her hips and began directing her movements so that she was rocking into his aching cock at just the right angle for both of them.  He hummed a low moan, and once Kit had caught the correct rhythm, he brought a hand up to caress the back of her head and guided her forward, adjusting his position until he could thrust up against her.

Even through their clothing, she was unavailingly hot against him.  She was perfect; he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be with more than how he was with her just then.  Her _tonguelipsteeth_ are driving him to new levels of arousal he'd never been to before, and he didn't want to ever stop.  He could already feel himself building toward a climax and had to make a snap decision about whether or not he wanted to come in his pants.

Lion-O broke the kiss with some difficulty — Kit didn't want to pull away any more than he wanted her to — and gasped out a, "hang on," while he struggled with his clothing one-handed.  Once he'd managed to eliminate the barriers of his belt, tunic, and pants, he freed his cock and moaned when the head brushed against Kit's thigh.  He'd never been this hard before; everything felt wonderfully tight, and every tiny movement Kit made that brushed against his cock brought new ripples of pleasure.

Kit had grown up with two brothers and lived for years in the slums; she'd seen penises before.  But this was the first time she'd been confronted with a cock, and she couldn't decide if she wanted to touch it or rub herself against it some more.  Lion-O's hand was wrapped loosely around the base, only just visible through the part in his pants; Kit licked her lips and tried to unhook the claws of one shaking hand from his tunic, but he was already moving, bringing her body back against his so that the only barrier between them was the thin material of her underwear.  His heat was unexpected, and Kit moaned, suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel wrapped up and warm in his arms; she began moving against him again, letting him direct her hips again.

Lion-O kissed Kit's neck and held her dress out of the way so that he could see what he was doing at first.  Her panties were wet through, and transparent enough for him to catch a glimpse of her slit — just enough detail to tease.  When the dress broke his line of sight for the second time, he decided enough was enough and stopped moving so that he could take it off.  Kit helped by holding the dress out of the way while he deftly began pulling out the knots in the back.  It took longer than he thought should strictly be necessary, but it was worth it minutes later when he was able to slip the dress down around her hips and past her thighs.  Kit stepped out of it, almost falling across him as she did so, and then she was free of it.  Lion-O took a moment to look her over and decided she had never looked more beautiful, hair and ears disheveled and wearing nothing but transparent panties.  Then he embraced her slim form again, and Kit pushed herself against him, her breasts a soft barrier between their heartbeats.

Kit ground down and slid along the length of his cock through her panties, which were just pliable enough to conform to the shape of her body and partially allow Lion-O to ride the channel between her folds.  He can't believe they were there, like this, never would have thought he'd be doing this with Kit.

Kit was feeling increasingly amazed, hopeful and relived while they moved together, and she was completely in awe of the man in her arms.  She was relieved he didn't seem to mind directing their movements, because, though everything instinctive was telling her this was what she needed, she didn't know what to do with the man in her arms well enough to play like this and get anything out of it.  She assumed Lion-O did this all the time, anyway, and trusted him to control their actions as long as he made it feel like this.

Lion-O did not, as a point of fact, have any such experience; but he'd had longer to fantasize and think about all the ways he wanted to have sex, and he was more in tune with his body while aroused; and both of them were quick studies, learning and memorizing each other's bodies and movements with every heartbeat.  Lion-O trailed kisses along Kit's shoulder and up her neck until she turned her head to catch his mouth, eager for more of his kisses.  Lion-O moaned to match her purring, his movements growing erratic.  He wasn't going to last long like this; but _this_ wasn't what Kit needed or wanted, so he forced himself to break the kiss again and push Kit back enough to free his cock from her heat.

"W-what's wrong?" she gasped faintly, digging her claws into his skin again the same way she had when she'd thought he was going to leave her.

Lion-O laughed a short, breathy laugh, bringing a hand up to caress one of her breasts properly.  "Nothing!  Nothing's wrong.  You're perfect.  Seriously, just— you're so beautiful…"  He released her breast and gripped her hip with one hand so he could cup her sex with the other — she was so wet she was _dripping_ ; he felt his cock twitch.

Kit gasped and thrust reflexively against him, eyes sliding shut.  "O-oh— _Lion-O_ …"

"Let's get these off," he murmured, voice throaty and low.  He turned Kit and carefully pushed her onto her back, laying across her dress and his cloak with her head on the arm of the couch, before hooking his fingers around the hem of her panties and pulling them down around her thighs, over her knees, and across her ankles.  As soon as her legs were free, Kit spread them so that one ankle was over the back of the couch and the other leg drifting off the other edge.  Lion-O saw her fully for the first time, laid out and bare before him, _for_ him, and the sight stole his breath.  The vision didn't last; Kit only stretched, then brought her legs back in and rolled over in place, standing on her knees with her chest pressed against the couch and her tail twisted to the side, instinctively taking the lordosis position.  She pressed her cheek into the couch, then turned her head farther so she could look back at Lion-O over her rump.

Her expression was expectant and hopeful and fearful all at once, and the sight caused Lion-O to fumble while he began struggling with his belt and tunic.  He didn't take anything off, just undid what needed to be undone in order to free his cock completely and fuck without obstruction.  He started to say something — her name, maybe —when he touched her thighs, but he was distracted with her pussy so close, and the words died on his lips.  He moved forward until her scent engulfed him completely and ran his hands over the curve of her cheeks, gripping them near the thigh and pulling them apart.  Her slit was swollen but tight, with just a hint of her folds visible at the end.  She was totally wet; her entire pussy was soaked, and he could see where she'd dribbled fluids down the insides of her thighs.  He rubbed a thumb alongside one side of her slit, prompting a moan.  Encouraged, he slipped his fingers into her folds, sinking into her wetness and heat.  He didn't penetrate her opening, but he did trace it with a fingertip.  Kit made a soft noise, purring hard enough that Lion-O knew he'd be able to feel it if he touched her throat.  He gave in to curiosity and closed the distance between himself and her body, licking her slit with the long, rough stroke, as if grooming her.  She tasted the way she smelled, and he moaned softly with her as he turned his head, licking and tasting and dipping his tongue into her body.  He kissed her pussy the same way he wanted to kiss her mouth, massaging her thighs with his hands.

It ended when Kit began moving against him; she rocked her hips and Lion-O shivered all the way down to his cock.  He pulled back and cupped her sex, wetting his hand.  He couldn't wait anymore.  "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes, yes," Kit groaned.

Lion-O bit his lip as he began pumping his dick, his hand slick with her essence; he wouldn't be able to last much longer like this.  He pulled his legs up onto the couch so that he was sitting on his knees, then gripped her thighs and commenced licking again, moaning against her damp fur.

Kit had thrown herself into her heat, body and mind, and when Lion-O's tongue met her folds again she began moving against him helplessly, her purr growing louder with every movement.  She was panting, struggling to catch her breath through parted lips and closed eyes; all of her instincts told her this was right.  The was the right position to be in, the right person to be with, the right place, the right time.  "Lion-O," she rasped softly, drawing his name into a moan as he sucked hard on one of her folds.  "Please, I— I need…"

Lion-O required no further invitation.  He pulled back, licking his lips, and stood up on his knees, running a hand down Kit's tail as he brushed it further aside.  "Are you… sure…?" he murmured, hesitating now that his cock was teasing her entrance.

Kit's eyes fluttered opened to golden slits.  She blinked a few times, as if struggling to clear her thoughts, then looked back at him over her shoulder.  "Yes," she said, voice soft and broken.  "Yes, I'm sure.  If— if you are."

"Alright," Lion-O breathed, and gripped her hip with one hand while he lined himself up at her entrance with the other.  _This is really happening_.  He began to nudge his way inside her, gasping as his over-sensitized head came in contact with her wet flesh, teasing her opening.  He decided to ease his way into her and enjoy every centimeter of her body as he claimed her.

Kit gasped and stilled, every muscle tense; she squeezed her eyes shut again.

Lion-O began pushing forward, trembling a little in the effort to take her slowly with small thrusts.  Kit winced and made a small noise, a hitch in her purr; Lion-O struggled to a stop.  "Are— are you— okay?" he panted, wanting nothing more than to just slam into her and take her, make her his completely.  His hands shook; he squeezed her hips harder, struggling to hold himself back.  _She was so hot, so wet, she needed him so much—_

"F-fine," Kit whimpered.  "Don't stop, don't stop, _don't stop_ —"

Her words were more than he could take.  He pulled back and released her hips, walking forward on his hands so that they were chest-to-back and he could kiss and lick along her shoulder.  He reached back between their bodies with one hand and realigned himself.  And then he gave in to instinct and drove himself into her body, seating himself fully in a single hard thrust.  And oh, gods, she was perfect — she was so tight, so hot, he'd wanted to feel this for so long and it was everything he imagined it would be, better than anything he'd ever dreamed.  He moaned helplessly, teeth fastening in her skin where shoulder met neck as her inner walls tightened around him; he couldn't stop moving, didn't want to ever stop moving, wanted to stay like this forever, thrusting into the perfect body below him.

Kit cried out when Lion-O tore past her barrier, but didn't stop purring even while she winced.  She made a small noise of discomfort, and it abruptly occurred to Lion-O that this might be Kit's first time, that he might have hurt her.  He forced himself to unlock his teeth from her neck and pause in his thrusting, sinking forward slowly until he was still and fully seated inside.

"Kit?" he murmured, using the back of a hand to brush her hair out of her face.  Strands of unruly hair had slipped free of their hold and were sticking to Kit's face.  "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing wrong," Kit whispered, eyes shut and brows drawn tightly together.  "Don't stop.  Please."  She couldn't lie to herself; it _did_ hurt, and for that matter, so had Lion-O's teeth when they'd pierced her neck.  The puncture wounds on her neck throbbed a little, and she decided immediately that she didn't like it.  But where her body joined his was was a good sort of pain, melting into the ache that came from being stretched too far by his member; she just needed to adjust to it, she thought, that was all.

Lion-O's countenance softened, and he nosed through escaped strands of Kit's hair and nuzzled the back of her neck.  "As my lady commands," he breathed, and began thrusting again, but slower this time.  Every movement felt amazing, and he wasn't prepared for the sheer feral possessiveness that seized him as he pounded into her.  Her slick inner walls tightened around him as if she was claiming him, too.  Every sound she made, little moans and gasps — every sound their bodies made, slapping together wetly — it was all amazing, impossible and _amazing_ —

Kit began to relax as the pain dwindled into sweetness, but didn't expect Lion-O to start moving as fast as he was.  His breath tickled her ear every time he panted, and she could feel a low growl in his chest, growing as he pounded into her harder.

Lion-O was close; he knew he was close, so close, and he told himself he should slow down, think about something that wasn't Kit's body, but he couldn't stop rocking his hips, couldn't stop, _couldn't stop_ —

"K-Kit— I'm— _ah—!_ "  He came hard, shuddering and thrusting erratically through the waves of pleasure as they crashed through him.  He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, his teeth finding her neck again.

Kit tried to move with him, letting her head drop and purring.  She could feel herself mounting toward something rapidly, and didn't realize what had happened until Lion-O stopped moving and pulled out of her, running his hands over her body.  Kit protested volubly.  "Wait, wait, don't stop— why are you stopping?"

"Sorry," Lion-O panted.  "You're just— I was— sorry."  He released her hips and collapsed back onto the couch, boneless and abashed.

"What?  Why?"  Alarmed, Kit shifted and braced herself on one hand, twisting to look at him through escaped strands of her hair.  "You don't want to…?"

Lion-O realized she didn't understand about the same time he noticed the blood on his cock.  He grimaced.  "I do, I do want you, I just, uh, need a break."

"Why?" Kit repeated.

Lion-O let out a small, breathy laugh.  "Because I'm a guy.  They didn't tell you this when they told you about the heat?"

"No one told me anything about men," Kit said.  She looked down and realized his cock had reverted to its softer, smaller state.  "You don't want to…" she repeated, disappointed and embarrassed.

Lion-O reached forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, gathering her into his lap.  "Come here.  It's not you, I— I messed up.  I'll get you next time, I promise.  Just give me a few minutes.  Does this help?"  He began rubbing her clit, using two fingers to massage slowly.

Kit arched into his touch, moaning, and wrapped her arms around his neck.  "Yes, yes, don't stop," she whispered, moving against his touch.

He played with her pussy, sometimes rubbing her clit, sometimes pulling at her lower lips, sometimes dipping his fingers into her body until they came back slick with her fluids and his seed.  The sight drew a moan out of him, and he adjusted Kit's position so that she was straddling one of his legs.  "You can go at your own speed this way," he explained.

Kit began humping his thigh energetically, making small sounds with each thrust.  He could feel how wet she was, the way she just slid along his fur in a blend of their essence.

Altogether, it led to a remarkably short refractory; Lion-O was hard before Kit had achieved orgasm.  He deduced that she was very close, and stopped her.  He wanted to be the one to take her to that place.  He moved her off her lap and stood up.

"Turn around," Lion-O breathed, helping Kit along so that she was standing on her knees on the couch, claws digging into the thin wood lining the back.  He pressed himself against her back, standing at the perfect height for pushing his cock between her thighs so that it slid snugly along her sex.  He wrapped one hand around her waist, following the curve of her stomach down until his fingers dipped into the soft, moist fur between her legs, fingertips brushing against the head of his cock.  He wrapped his other hand around her chest, cupping a breast and squeezing the nipple.

Kit couldn't stop purring.  His hand was a hot, soothing pressure against her breast, and his other hand a secure anchor on her hip.  He rode the channel between her thighs, where the fur was lubricated by her juices and his seed to the point where he could just slide easily in and out between her legs.  He moaned into her ear, thrusting slowly.  She tried to hold still for him, but she couldn't, she _couldn't_ , and she whimpered and spread her thighs, trying to go into the lordosis position but unable to with Lion-O holding her so firmly against her body.

Lion-O understood.  He chuckled into her ear, low and breathy.  "It's alright, I know what you want, Kit."  Then he stopped rubbing himself along her sex and pulled back, releasing her breast and stepping away.

Kit was engulfed by the chill air of the room and complained at the loss of contact.  Suddenly afraid he was leaving her again, she turned her head, looking for him.  "Wait— Lion-O?"

Immediately, Lion-O moved forward and wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his cheek soothingly against the soft fur of her ears.  "Hey, I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, and she relaxed into his embrace.  "I need you to hold still now.  Can you do that for me?"

Kit nodded, latching onto his arms.

Lion-O fumbled between them for a moment, lining up the head of his cock with her entrance once more.  He began to push the head in and growled softly, wrapping both hands around her hips.

She could feel his claws, needle-sharp, not quite piercing her skin.

"Ready for round two?" he breathed, unaware of just how hard his grip was.

Kit twitched her hips, gasping, "yes, please, please, do it—"

He kissed her shoulder and nibbled, but didn't bite into her neck again.  He held her close as he began pushing forward, seating himself into her body in one slow, fluid motion.  They both moaned, and Lion-O began a slow rhythm, just pulling out halfway before pushing himself back in.  Her body embraced him with every thrust as he claimed her again, tightening around him as if she were claiming him, too.  Kit's purr was a low rumble at the base of her throat, and Lion-O licked and groomed her neck just to feel it reverberating faintly through her skin.

He fucked her slowly to begin with, taking his time and enjoying every centimeter of her body.  She was just as tight as before, and he was intent on making this last.

But he was moving too slowly for Kit's taste, and she made a clumsy movement with her hips meant to urge him on, breathing a faint plea.

Her actions struck him as unexpectedly precious, and he was almost bowled over by a sudden feeling of deep fondness for her, for this young woman he had known almost all her life.  "Oh, Kit," he breathed in a broken whisper, caressing her body while he moved.  He paused briefly long enough to direct her face to his and claim another series of perfect kisses.  Kit moaned and matched his movements, and they settled into a comfortable rhythm of kissing and fucking slowly, tongues dipping into each other's mouths while his cock sank as deep as possible into her body.  She was perfect; he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be with more than how he was with her right then.

Kit was breathless and wild with desire, but incapable of squirming around with Lion-O holding her as tightly as he was, so she settled for making little noises into their kisses.  Their bodies were perfectly aligned; he completed her in ways she never knew she could feel complete, and every heartbeat of time spent like this, with him, was wordlessly amazing.  She nipped at his lip and breathed his name, hoping he would speed up — and he did, a little — but Lion-O seemed more interested in the kissing than the fucking, so after what felt like an age, Kit regretfully broke the kiss to spell it out for him.  "Please, Lion-O, I need — ah— n-need more…" it was hard to talk when they were like this.  "Lion-O…" his name became a moan and she gave up, filled with the sensations of him pushing his cock in and out of her body and mouthing delicate kisses along her jaw.

Kit's final moan was enough to drive Lion-O closer to the edge than he would have liked, given how long they'd been at it.  But he wasn't complaining; he pressed a final chaste kiss to her lips and then trailed his lips down her neck and along her shoulder, nibbling gently or grooming her fur as he went.  Every part of her tasted amazing and he didn't want to take his mouth away, needed to have her on his tongue.  He paused again, but only long enough to kick his belt and pants off his ankles and yank his tunic back up and out of the way.  Then he picked up speed and closed his eyes while their bodies slapped together, losing the sight of her bouncing breasts but making up for it by dragging his hands up from her hips and cupping her breasts.

Kit matched his rhythm at first, keeping up to speed with him while their bodies joined; but she failed to keep up when he continued picking up speed, taking her harder and faster until she couldn't do anything but experience his body and hers as they met and part and met again like they couldn't bear to part — like they maybe weren't meant to part ever.

He whispered her name, unable to say anything else.

Kit arched her back, head pressed against his shoulder and eyes squeezed shut.  This was what she needed, _this_ is what she'd been aching for — this is what she'd always been missing in the very core of her being all her life, what she'd never known she was missing until now.  She had died every day never knowing this moment, and now she was there, Lion-O pounding into her from behind, saying her name as reverently as a prayer — like she was the most important person in the world to him, like he'd never given himself to anyone like that and he never wanted to give himself to anyone other than Kit ever again.  Something inside of her twisted — not the heat beneath her fur that she associated with arousal, but something deeper than flesh or even consciousness; she had found perfection, and she was experiencing it now, wrapped up in Lion-O's arms.  She reached up and back with one arm and wrapped it around his neck, clinging to his arm with the other while he massaged her breasts.

The room was silent except for their panting and moaning and bodies slapping together, and it felt isolated, like they were the only two animals in the world even though they both knew there was a ballroom full of hundreds of people just a few steps away, and thousands more besides just beyond the windows.  Distantly, the evening bell rang; its twelve gongs went unnoticed by the occupants of the fainting room.

Kit could feel herself mounting toward that _something_ again, pressure building within her like a coiled spring centered at her peak.  She was impossibly hot and Lion-O's body felt amazing, so amazing, she didn't want him to ever stop, didn't think it could possibly get any better than this — but then it _did_.

Lion-O dragged one hand down Kit's body and started playing with her sex, still pounding hard and fast from behind, and Kit's breath hitched.  She moaned loudly, her hips twitching, trying to move with his cock and his hand at the same time and failing to move in rhythm with either.  She had the vague thought that she was interfering with his rhythm, but she was completely unable to stop moving her hips anymore; she was no longer in control of her body — Lion-O was.  She tried to encourage him to keep touching her the way he was, but he'd stolen her breath and she could only squeak out a drawn-out and broken, " _y-yes_ _…_ "

But it seemed to communicate what she wanted anyway, because Lion-O huffed out a soft, short laugh and said, "yes?  Do you want more?"

Kit gripped his arm with both hands, unintentionally drawing blood, and answered with a broken cry.  "Y-yes, don't stop, don't e-ever stop, _please--_ "

"As my lady commands," Lion-O purred in her ear, sending a new tremor through her body and drawing another moan from her lips.  She can hear the faint smirk in his voice when he breathes her name, and she wants very much to kiss that smirk, but she can't seem to control her body anymore.  She bit her lip and moaned helplessly as his fingers slid through her folds.

He touched her everywhere she didn't know she wanted to be touched, first playing with her folds, then inadvertently massaging her in just the right spot, then rubbing his fingers between her inner and outer lips, and then kneading her peak again, always without pausing or slowing his his fucking.  It's intense, and all Kit can think is that it's good, it's so good, it's incredible and perfect and—

" _Ah,_ there!  _Lion-O_ —" she cried, her words melting into a helpless moan that gained volume as he started rubbing her clit in exactly the right way.  He's driving that pressure inside her, making her build harder and faster toward whatever it is her body is building to, and words began spilling from her lips in disjointed fragments.

"Faster, faster, _please_ —" when his fingers slowed to something sensual and torturous, forcing Kit to arch her back and moan.

"Don'tstopnoplease—" when he grunted and seemed to focus on his thrusting more than what his hand was doing.

"Here, _oh_ , yes—" when his hand returned to doing what she wanted it to do but he didn't quite get the right spot, so she guided his fingers and placed them where she wanted them.

When she wrapped her trembling fingers around his, she realized they were wet and sticky with her fluids.  Panting and uttering soft cries with every thrust, she opened her eyes and looked down her body to where their fingers were tangled together at her peak.  And that's all she needed; to actually see Lion-O stroking her, keeping her in this beautiful place of perfection.  Everything after that happens in a dizzying blur.

She watched Lion-O spread her folds apart with the fingers of one hand while the other began massaging her clit again, sending trembling shivers of pleasure through her body and tightening the coil of tension in her stomach until she knew instinctively it couldn't get any tighter…

He moaned her name, lips pressed against her ear…

She could hear every soft grunt as he pounded into her…

She could feel him fill her completely with every thrust…

His cock and his fingers were working together to bring her release, there, in that isolated place of perfection that only they could reach together, and the pressure fell abruptly over the edge within her.  It was an implosion of something wordless and incredible and overpowering from the inside, centered at the apex of her legs and spreading through her body like shock waves.  She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out without expecting or meaning to be as loud as she was, writhing in Lion-O's arms and thrusting her hips helplessly as if chasing after all of the sweetness escaping through her body.  Her senses were overtaken and drowning, leaving her feeling half-conscious as she was swept-along by the electric waves crashing through her and carrying her to a place of total completion.  She understood what it meant to be complete then; true completion, where everything inside and out was filled and fulfilled until she couldn't be filled anymore.

The pleasure was still pulsing through her in little ripples when she slumped in Lion-O's arms, whimpering softly.  Lion-O's arms were locked securely around her as she slumped in them, panting as the spots cleared from her vision.  Clarity like she hadn't had since her bath earlier that afternoon began returning soon after.  The tortured symptoms of her heat had faded, too — still present, but no longer overwhelming or miserable.

"Wow," Lion-O breathed in her ear as she caught her breath.

"Wow," she agreed faintly, head lolling back until her cheek was pressed against his chest.  She licked at his fur reflexively, purring.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, and she realized abruptly that he wasn't thrusting anymore, only holding her firmly against him.  His length is hard and wet, pressed against her fur just below where back met derrière.

She rallied and located her voice.  "Y-yeah," she whispered, anything like a normal volume out of reach.  "Wow."

Lion-O puffed out a short chuckle and shifted slightly so he could guide himself to her entrance again.  He pushed in slowly, massaging Kit's over-sensitive clit and sending more tiny waves of lightning thrumming through her; she shuddered and moaned.  It was a slightly different experience being taken by her king while she was in her right mind rather than mindless in heat, and she didn't want it to end.

Lion-O sped up gradually and lost himself to her body, content to begin fully losing control now that Kit had climaxed.  He had never been this hard before, everything tight and insanely sensitive; it was incredible.  Kit was completely relaxed and satisfied in his arms, and her slick inner walls were still impossibly tight, embracing him like a lover.  The tension in his cock was building, tightening until he could feel his peak nearing and knew he wouldn't last much longer like this; he kissed Kit's temple and savored the final build up.  Kit adjusted her grip on him as if trying to pull him closer, and Lion-O was almost knocked over by a wave of jumbled emotions; she was just… incredible.  In this moment, he couldn't think of any other way to describe her.  She took his breath away.

The muscles in his hands began to ache, and he realized, distantly, that he was gripping her hips hard enough to drive his claws into her skin.  He released her, murmuring an apology, and wrapped his arms around her waist instead, holding her in a gentle — but no less secure — embrace.  He nuzzled her neck, pressing just hard enough to feel the thrum of her purr; he began mouthing feather-light kisses down her throat, treasuring her whispered moans.  She tipped her head to the side as if asking for more, so he obliged her.  He craved this woman right now; he didn't think there'd ever been a time when he was this happy, or so overflowing with desire for anything, or anyone.

She wasn't frantic anymore; her movements had become languid and smooth, the controlled movements of a woman ready for a catnap.  But she wasn't pulling away, either, and didn't seem to want to stop or change positions or anything; there was no impatience in the set of her ears, nothing tense in her shoulders.  She reached back with both arms to wrap them around his neck, murmuring his name and turning her cheek to his chest; her lashes fluttered, eyes drifting shut as though she was lost to the pleasure.  Lion-O kissed her mouth.  The heat between his legs felt as hot as Kit's body; all of his muscles were tense, as if prepared for battle.  His breathing began to pick up.

He didn't want it to end; not now that they'd moved beyond the fumbling and awkwardness and found the perfect rhythm.  He wanted to make it last longer, but he could feel his balls tightening.  Her muscles contracted around him with every thrust; each time he slid into her body, he slid a little closer to the edge.  He kissed her shoulder reverently and rested his cheek against her temple, enjoying the final moments of their coupling.  His thrusts came harder, more erratic; he couldn't stop moaning, breathing her name and telling her how amazing she was, how beautiful, how she was driving him crazy, how much he needed her right now.

His thighs tensed, and then the tension inside of him broke — and all control slipped between his fingers.  Shuddering, his head fell back and he cried out breathlessly as he was lost to a blinding euphoria; it hit him like an anvil and seized control of every every physical sensation and every feeling, and turned it all into something breathtaking and beautiful.  It was wordlessly powerful, moving through him with the force of thunder, and he could only stand helpless while it drowned him.

He shuddered and gasped as it came to an end, his knees almost giving out; he gripped Kit harder than intended to catch himself.  His hips slowed and he rode out the final embers of his climax with weak thrusts, head thrown back and arms full of Kit's body, warm and soft and wet and perfect, still clenching tight around him.

Lion-O slowed to a stop and tried to catch his breath, heart pounding rapidly.  His knees nearly gave out after he pulled out of Kit's body, and he had to maneuver them both so that he could collapse on the couch in a boneless heap with Kit pressed snugly against his side.  He shifted his clothing — which had seen better days by then — a little so that he could slump comfortably, then let his head fall back over the edge of the couch while a final, appreciative moan escaped his lips; he couldn't think of a time when he'd ever felt this comfortable in his fur.  Happiness was pumping through him with every heartbeat, and he couldn't help the weak grin directed at the ceiling; he buried a hand in Kit's hair and guided her face against his chest once more.  He could feel her purr where her throat was closest to his chest, heady and deep and unexpectedly powerful; they were pressed so close that it almost felt like he was purring, too.

It seemed odd, but, wrapped up in Lion-O's arms with her fur sticky from sweat and bodily fluids, Kit had never felt more comfortable or safer than she did then.  When he started grooming her face, her purr vibrated in her throat harder than it ever had before.  She dozed, completely exhausted, only coming alive when Lion-O dipped his head down for a slow, chaste kiss; then she rested her head below his chin.  "Thank you," she murmured without thinking, then abruptly wondered if that was the wrong thing to say when Lion-O huffed out a short, breathless laugh.

"I should be thanking _you_ ," he said.  "That was… incredible.  You're incredible."

Kit was already flushed, but she felt her face heating further even so.  "So are you," she whispered, running a hand up his chest, beneath his rumpled tunic.  "But, um, really.  Thank you.  For helping me.  I was, uh… having a lot of trouble earlier.  I don't think I can do it on my own."

Lion-O tipped his face to the side, rubbing his cheek against her ears.  "What are you going to do for the rest of your heat, if that's the case?"

Kit furrowed her brow and stilled, the ghost of anxiety gnawing at her stomach.  She knew she couldn't make herself climax on her own; what _was_ she going to do?  "I don't know," she admitted at last.  "I guess I… I'll just…" she trailed off unhappily.

Looking down at her, disheveled and satisfied in his arms, Lion-O felt something twist in the region of his heart.  He gathered her closer against his chest.  "Come to me," he offered. 

Kit paused, then looked up at him almost shyly through her lashes.  "Are you… sure…?" she asked huskily.

Lion-O recommenced grooming her face impulsively.  "If you ever need help like this, I'm always available," he said between licks.  "I promise.  Come to me whenever you're in heat, and I'll help you."

Kit's purr had petered out during the conversation, but it came back with Lion-O's grooming; she enjoyed the feeling of it, a soothing rumble in her throat to match the soothing strokes of Lion-O's tongue.  "Thank you," she breathed.

A knock on the door made them both jump.  "Your majesty," an apologetic voice called urgently through the door.  "Sire, the people are waiting."

"The speech!"  Lion-O made a panicked motion, then jumped to his feet — almost dumping Kit onto the couch — and began struggling with his clothing.  "What time is it?"

"Fifteen after midnight, Sire," the voice answered.

"I'll, um, be right there," Lion-O called, straightening his tunic and running his hands hurriedly through his mane.  Like Kit's, it had the look of someone who had just had a roll in the hay.

Kit grinned and helped him put himself back together.  "Back into the fray?" she said when he was presentable again.

Lion-O gave her a lopsided grin.  "Back into the fray.  Will you be alright…?"

Kit nodded.  "I'll sneak back to my room once the guards follow you out."  She paused, and then, on impulse, stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.  "Good luck with your speech."

The look Lion-O gave her in return was an odd one, soft and unsure and thrilled.  "See you later?"

"Yeah.  See you later."  Kit watched Lion-O slip out of the room, then collapsed back onto the couch.  She hadn't been this clear-headed since the day before; Lion-O had worked wonders on her sanity.  She grinned and closed her eyes.

 _Come to me_.

 _I will_ , she thought without hesitation.  This wouldn’t be their last heated liaison _._ Not by a long shot.


End file.
